All That Matters
by champagnewellies
Summary: "She could never just let him be the hero" - The immediate aftermath of the explosion
1. Chapter 1

It was typical he thought. That Ziva would be the one to throw herself at him, protect his body with hers before he even had the chance to realise what the hell was going on.

She could never just let him be the hero.

Though as they fell to the ground in what seemed to be slow motion, his arm wrapping around her waist of its own accord, her face meeting his chest, he knew that _this _was how it had always been. How it always would be.

Always fighting to protect each other, complaining when they were beaten too it.

He would quite willingly give his life so that she could have hers. Put himself into the line of fire and take a bullet that was meant for her, it was what partners, team mates, were _meant_ to do. It was just too bad he had such a hard time convincing himself that.

It wasn't as if he wouldn't do exactly the same for McGee or Gibb's or anyone on the team, but with her it was just different.

It always had been.

He wasn't the type of guy who _needed _protecting. He had been pretty much on his own since he was seventeen, making his own way, doing things the way he liked them.

And yet that all changed when she showed up.

She was like a bug that he didn't really want to get rid of. He pushed she pulled. She refused to listen to him even when she knew he was right, he made jokes and movie quotes just to annoy her, and they would both get in each other's personal space just to see who would crack first.

She was the most infuriating, frustrating person he had ever met, and yet he wouldn't know what to do without her.

And as he felt his back hit the ground, though not without his head first taking the impact against the elevator door – boy would that hurt in the morning – he was for once glad that her ninja skills had resulted in him being on the bottom.

She was always trying to protect him, trying to prevent him from being hurt. He would be lying if he said he didn't hate it.

Bombs going off, bullets flying, you name it and they were throwing themselves on top of one another – or more _she_ was throwing herself on top of him.

But this time he was glad that she had, because this way it meant that not only would she be cushioned like she was now but if he wasn't mistaken they were about two levels up, and he doubted that it wasn't only the electrics of the elevator that had taken a hit.

Unlike every other time he wasn't going to fight her to be on top, no this time he would remain where he was, because if this elevator was to go down now, if the cables holding it in place gave out, she stood more of a chance braced on top of him, than crushed underneath.

He could feel her hand meet his, as the cab tilted at an unnerving angle. They had stopped moving but were now swinging from side to side. How large was the elevator shaft exactly? Hopefully it was wide enough for Ziva to climb out.

Even in the dim light, made worse by the fact his sight was now growing fuzzy – damn he must have hit his head harder than he thought – he could see her eyes were squeezed shut. Too tightly to be unconscious he thought.

He gave her fingers a squeeze testing his theory, and she pressed back with such an amount of force that he worried that she may cut off the circulation.

He didn't care though.

It was a signal that she was fine, that they were both still there that she, no _they_ had refused to leave each other, even when the pair had ignored the most obvious of safety protocol and used the elevator.

In their defence, they did think they would have more time, everyone always does don't they?

She was alive, she was ok, didn't appear to be bleeding – he was ninety nine percent positive the warm wetness he could feel on his scalp was in fact his own blood – and she was safe, well as safe as she could be given the circumstances.

That was all he really cared about at that precise moment.

He wouldn't even allow himself to consider that the rest of the team didn't get out, Gibb's would have made sure that Abby was safe, and McGee well he was just too intelligent to hang around, even if he had been backing up the entire content of his computer the last time he saw him.

They were all ok. They had to be.

The debris had stopped falling now, and only the occasional spurt of dust was falling into the cab, but black patches had began to appear across his vision.

He felt Ziva shift slightly, brushing a few bits of metal and dust from her back, though her face was still buried into his chest and she refused to let go of the tight grip on his hand. Good that meant anything that had fallen on her hadn't caused any major injuries that he couldn't see.

She must have noticed that his own grip had grown weaker, because right now his head was thumping and feeling dizzier by the second, each of his limbs had turned to jelly – though he was reassured by the fact he could still feel his toes, yeah way to prioritize DiNozzo – and the way her eyes shot open, meeting his, a look of confusion and then horror crossing her features, all without him uttering a single word. He knew he must look close to deathly about now, even if he _had_ only banged his head.

He was fine, though when he opened his mouth to tell Ziva that, nothing seemed to come out.

He couldn't even manage to give her a weary smile, as her hands cupped his face feeling round the back of his head before staring at her fingers that were now stained red.

Instead he had to listen, to her desperate pleas for him to stay awake, that she hadn't left him so he most certainly wasn't allowed to leave her, all the while his vision becoming more tunnelled.

He was just glad that it wasn't the other way around, that it wasn't him begging her to keep her eyes open, running his hands through her hair alternatively with trying to place pressure on the wound, never letting go of the tight hold he had on her hand.

He couldn't hear anything now, just a high pitched keening sound that seemed to pierce every nerve ending; he knew it wouldn't be long until the darkness consumed him.

Ziva obviously realised this too, the way the blind panic was visible on her features, the way tears now freely ran down her cheeks, while she screamed soundless threats at him that he would never hear.

This so was not like her.

He couldn't tell if she was more concerned about the fact he was slowly losing consciousness, or the fact they were now trapped inside a very unstable elevator, he had forgotten about her fear of small spaces.

Either way, this was definitely upsetting her, giving her a totally different persona.

As his eyes fluttered closed and then open before closing again, he felt slightly bad for putting her through this sort of pain.

But for once he was the hero, and if that made him selfish then so be it.

Ziva was safe and would get out of here, even if he didn't.

And that was all that mattered.

* * *

**A/N:** _Not really sure if I'm pleased with this or not. I sometimes feel that my writing is a bit repetitive, so undecided whether I will write another chapter for this. But this is just a really short drabble that came to mind in the midst of all my revision, to all of those waiting for an update on 'Regrets Collect Like Old Friends' I can't apologize enough, things have been pretty hectic recently but I will try and update in the next few days. Thanks for reading! _


	2. Chapter 2

She didn't even have to think about it.

Call it a sixth sense, a general awareness or as Tony called it her ninja skills. But the second the bomb detonated, the second a ball of flame engulfed headquarters, the second the elevator gave a sickening screech, she knew what had happened. It only took a second.

And it took even less than that, for her to launch herself at Tony, throwing herself on top of him, covering his body with hers.

She was always glad to be on top.

She reasoned with herself that, if anything were to fall on them, he stood more chance being protected underneath her, with less of his body exposed to anything sinister.

He would thank her for it later when he realised that it could have been _him _trapped in a hospital, or on desk duty instead of her.

He would also complain, just like he always did.

Knew he would have something to say about the fact that, yes once again she was being the man in the relationship. Protecting him before he even had a chance to register what was going on, putting herself at risk, and putting herself in the most danger just so that he stood a better chance.

It had always been this way, and she didn't plan on changing it any time soon.

Even if Tony did whine like a little girl afterwards.

She had lost so many in the past, people she loved, people who were friends, people who she had only met the once, yet people none the less.

It didn't ever get any easier.

And it would be unbearable if Tony was added to that list.

It was the worst feeling in the world, wondering if there was anything you could have done, wondering if your own actions had been the thing that lead that person to their deaths, wondering how their families reacted how they dealt with the fact that _their _son or daughter or brother or sister or cousin had been taken, when it so could have so easily been someone else.

It wasn't survivor's guilt; she knew that, losing people, risking life was all part of the job.

She had been on both sides of the coin herself. She had been the sister, the daughter, had even been the friend left wondering what if?

She doubted the pain would ever go away, the only small consolation was that she hadn't actually been with them, had she been alongside them, and lived instead of them. She didn't know how she would move on.

If Tony were to be taken from her though, if Tony was taken from her, when she herself could have done something, if she could have taken the bullet, or the shrapnel from the explosion or could have been the one to be taken and tortured for information, yet hadn't. She seriously thinks she would lose it.

Lose it completely.

How could she face the rest of the team, knowing that it had been her job to protect him and failed? How could she see their faces everyday and know that the reason, that a member of the team, a member of their _family_, that Tony was gone and never coming back because of her.

She knew herself too well by now. Knew that the grief wouldn't come out, lessen over time like a normal person dealing with loss. But would be bottled up and driven inwards, and in those sorts of quantities she didn't doubt that it would destroy her.

It wasn't as if she wouldn't do the same for anyone else on the team.

Though if she was perfectly honest she didn't think that the rest of the team would end up in the types of situations that _needed_ her protection, they had done pretty well so far. They were far too intelligent, far too quick to end up on the wrong side of a bullet. But Tony, well he just seemed to attract trouble wherever he went.

And she_ knew_, she knew it was different with him.

She knew and hated herself for it, hated herself for letting it cloud her judgement as much as it already did. At times she wondered whether they should just give up this silly game of cat and mouse that they played, because she was already so compromised when it came to him that she didn't see how them being together would change that.

His life though, and protecting it was the only thing that was on her mind as she felt them begin to fall, his arms locking around her waist securely, and god she shouldn't like it as much as she did, because right now the only important thing was that he was ok and eventually got out of this damn metal death trap.

Even if she didn't.

It simply wasn't negotiable.

She felt his hand meet hers as they hit the floor, it felt almost as natural as breathing these days, the position they took when they were in danger. Had it really happened that often, that they simply fell into place, having rehearsed it to the point that they literally were a well oiled machine?

The joining of the fingers was symbolic of so much more though. It was a sign that they were both still there, that they were ok, a private means of communication between them when things were unable to be voiced. But also – to her anyways – when they finally did get the all clear it was what kept her grounded, because staring down into those green eyes, so full of concern and care with the slightest bit of irritation that once again she had tackled him to the ground before he even had the chance to respond.

It was so very nearly her undoing.

Without the firm press of his fingers between hers, without the feeling of the skin on their hands stretched tightly but rubbing against each other, without the reminders that they were in fact still alive. Well she thinks she may as well just tear his clothes off where he lay because that is where they would be heading should she have to look in those eyes for a second longer.

She had her eyes clenched shut, not sure if she was ready to face the fact they were now trapped in a slightly dim precariously hanging elevator - her fear of small spaces had never really disappeared.

So when she felt the familiar though slightly frantic squeeze of her fingers she couldn't help but to squeeze back just as hard, her heart giving an involuntary leap at the knowledge maintaining the pressure even after she was assured he was ok.

Debris ceased to fall from the ceiling, having scattered across her back and legs, though thankfully no chunks had been large enough to pin her down or injure her at all, she didn't want Tony to be trapped underneath her, he had to be able to climb up and out.

She knew he wouldn't do that if she were injured, knew he would refuse to leave her, insist on waiting with her until help arrived even if she shouted and screamed at him he wouldn't budge.

He was literally the most stubborn, annoying person she had ever met.

But he was also someone she couldn't get rid of no matter how much she pushed, he would always just keep coming back. Her goofy, movie quoting Tony DiNozzo could never just quite leave her be.

It was sweet in one sense.

At times though, the man was a complete idiot.

But he was ok, that was all that mattered at that precise moment.

She knew that the team would be ok too, knew that they would have gotten out, though her heart sank at the thought of who hadn't gotten out in time. She knew despite their best efforts, there would still be agents and workers lurking around somewhere.

They were just doing their jobs, many assuming that there was in fact no emergency, that this was just another one of the safety protocol practices that Vance ran far too often for a fully functioning federal agency.

Maybe not enough judging by the fact she and Tony had chosen to take the elevator in the middle of a crisis. Gibb's was going to slap them silly when he found out.

But the people who stayed behind, the people, who today had been taken from their family, simply because they chose to stay behind, anticipated that they had more time.

Of course they didn't, no one ever knows how long they have though do they?

It's one of the things that make life so unfair.

Her eyes were squeezed shut still, she could feel the cab of the elevator rock from side to side, it was slightly nauseating, though not as nauseating as the terror that rocketed round her blood stream when she noticed the grip Tony had on her hand had lessened. Growing gradually weaker as the seconds ticked by.

Her head shot up, her eyelids snapped open. Her gaze meeting his, but the eyes that she was used to seeing, the care, the concern, the worry was absent.

Instead his pupils were refusing to focus, the green meeting her brown but without the usual intensity that they usually bared.

What the hell had happened?

She saw him try to open his mouth to speak, but nothing came out, she prayed that he would flash her one of his smiles, the ones that she liked to think of as her own private one, one that he saved just for her.

Right now though she would take just about anything she could get. Even prayed that he would grimace, even the slightest amount, do anything to show that he was more aware than the blank disoriented look he was giving her right now.

It didn't make sense, nothing had fallen on him, there was no obvious reason he should be like this.

And then she saw it, the way their bodies were aligned closely with the door of the elevator, the way that they had literally been bodily flung by the force of the explosion.

Reaching round the back of his head, her fingers met a warm wetness in his hair; she still hoped there was any other explanation for it. But as she brought her fingers back to the front, her own skin stained red, she knew exactly what it was, knew exactly what had happened too.

She was shouting at him now, begging him to stay awake, she wasn't even sure he could hear her. But she knew she couldn't allow him to shut his eyes right now, couldn't allow him to drift off, he wasn't allowed to be taken from her like this, not in this sick twisted way fate had decided.

He was losing the fight with the darkness though, she could see by the way his eyes were now fluttering closed. She tried to tell herself that it was simply off the bang to the head, he was likely concussed and with blood loss on top of that of course he was likely to pass out.

She couldn't stop the panic from building though, couldn't stop herself from thinking that this was the last time she would ever see him conscious, couldn't help but be terrified by the thought he wouldn't come back to her, that they had ran out of time.

And that's why she was screaming at him now, screaming as the tears blurred her own vision, screaming threats at him that she wasn't even sure made sense.

But it didn't matter; she doubted he could hear them anyway.

Because as his eyes finally shut, his form giving the impression he was sleeping as it stretched out for seconds at a time that then turned to minutes. Her gripping his face, now whispering, begging him wake up for her, promising him things she had long been terrified of, she knew that for once he had gotten his way.

For once he had been the hero.

**A/N:** _So decided to continue with this for a few chapters, I just can't resist a good bit of angst, particularly when it involves an injured Tony. So thank you to anyone who reviewed/alerted etc so far. The next chapter should be up within the next week or so. _


	3. Chapter 3

Time seemed to stand still.

In reality she guessed it had only been an hour or so, maybe less than that.

But could have been days for all she knew. The way the elevator had fallen into a deathly silence, the last scraps of debris having fallen from the top of the elevator shaft.

The only sound that rattled around the metal prison now was the sound of her breathing, as she continued to lie across Tony, one hand stroking his face, the other pressing two fingers into his neck feeling the steady drum of his pulse. The firm beat the only thing that could keep her from hysteria right now.

She knew that the medics must be on site by this point, that there would be rescue attempts underway and that the chaos would have started to see some order.

But she also knew that they were likely not to be seen too until last, in fact she doubted anyone would even think to look in here for quite some time. What idiots took the elevator after all?

It was ironic she thought that throughout _both _of their lives they had faced death on so many occasions, staring down the barrel of a gun, being overpowered in a fist fight, being at the wrong place at the wrong time. All things that you would associate with the types of bad ass action movies Tony loved so much, yet currently they were trapped in a elevator swinging precariously with no real means of viable escape.

She wondered then if this was like fates way of metaphorically kicking her in the gut.

Nothing good ever came from this elevator. Words left unspoken, tension thick in the air, spats unresolved due to a lack of time.

So of course should a time come when she and Tony could actually talk _uninterrupted -_ without the doors opening, without someone else joining on another floor, without either of them being able to deflect and run, the guy was unconscious?

Seriously someone up there must really have it in for her because she could seriously not get a break.

Though what would she even do with it should she actually get one?

She wasn't exactly the most forthcoming person with her feelings, never wore her heart on her sleeve, but maybe just maybe, this was what this was about, to get her to face up to what was right in front of her, what she had been denying for _so long_.

And as she stared down as the man beneath her, who thankfully had had some colour return to his face, and did she just see his nose twitch slightly there? She knew with absolute certainty what that_ thing_ was.

"I am tired of pretending" she whispered as she stroked her hand through his hair, the other moving from his neck – though instantly missing the comfort she found there – gripping his hand tightly, feeling the press of their fingers together, the feel of his warmth even though not so long ago he bared more resemblance to a dead body than a man.

And she was. She was ridiculously tired, of this game they played.

This back and forth, the refusal to give in to what had been bubbling between them since the first time they met, refusing to give into something that would make them _happy_.

She had _tried. _They had _both_ tried so hard to find someone else; to find someone where the spark would even just marginally register against the amount there was with them. But they had never found it.

Instead jumping from one failed relationship to the next, missing their opportunity.

How easily this could have been, _still_ could be the worst missed opportunity of all.

Because had Tony been worse injured, or should he fail to wake up at all – and god she didn't even want to consider that possibility – then there would just be her, left alone, with nothing but her memories and her regrets of what could have been. What they could have had.

That wasn't going to happen.

Because she loved him, there she had finally admitted it to herself.

She loved him more than what could be considered a brother – she had to admit having _those_ sorts of dreams about your brother would have been very weird – she loved him more than a friend, cared more for him than a co worker.

She really shouldn't, she wasn't even _allowed_ to, yet she did, and she sure as hell wasn't letting anything else stand in the way of that.

Gibb's rule be damned, she wasn't standing by, pretending that her feelings didn't exist, when things like this could happen.

They happened more often than she was even comfortable with.

She didn't want to have to be in this position again, to have Tony lying motionless, unable to hear her, and her having to shout and scream at him to stay awake. It had been a bang to the head this time, and she was an absolute wreck, what happens if next time it were to be a bullet?

A bullet that she was to slow to take, a bullet that lodged itself in his chest, causing him to bleed out right in front of her eyes, no amount of pressure or work from her being able to stop it, the truth and words that had festered for seven years now remaining unspoken, unheard.

He would die without knowing the truth.

Die thinking she didn't care, or didn't care _enough_ to take the risk.

It wasn't going to be like that.

She was going to make sure he knew, even if he turned her down, even if he broke her heart, he needed to know.

"I really love you" she said with more determination than necessary, it was as if she was trying to prove it to herself rather than anyone else."You hear that Tony, I am tired of this game that we play, I am so tired of pretending not to feel the way I do, so please, _please _wake up, I need you to wake up, so I can actually tell you this in person"

She was aware that she was babbling now, the tears beginning to fall down her cheeks again, so much was her desperation for him to wake up. For him to wake up and assure her that she wasn't alone.

"You win ok? You protected _me _this time, but you are never allowed to do it again you hear? Because Tony I can't see you like this, I am going crazy right now, and just please wake up so I know you are fine" she waited to see the flicker of his features, for him to twitch, for him to make comment on how sappy she was being, but nothing came.

Instead he lay silent, as she give in to the tears, laying her head on his chest as the sobs wracked her body, convinced that he was never going to wake up again, that she had missed her chance.

It was only when she felt the slight tightening of fingers around her own, that her head snapped up.


End file.
